Far From Heaven
by Ferret2
Summary: [D/G] After 11 years, a wanted ex-Death Eater returns to the wizarding world with only his hard-earned death sentence in mind. That is, until a certain redhead shows him that life may just be worth living afterall.


**Author:** Jonah (jlee@bad-faith.net)  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language and mild sexual references  
**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to the one and only JK Rowling. The wandering, redemption idea was inspired by the character Kenshin Himura in the anime, Rurouni Kenshin. Chapter song belongs to Evanescence.  
**Pairings:** Draco/Ginny  
**Summary:** After 11 long years, the wanted and presumed dead ex-Death Eater Draco Malfoy returns to the wizarding world only to find it in shambles thanks to the corrupted MoM. When the Terrific Trio are no longer around to clean up the mess, and Ginny Weasley as his only ally, will Draco finally be able to make up for all he'd done?   
  
**Author's Note:** I got stuck while writing the next chapter of my other fanfic - _Fatum_ - when this idea came to me. I couldn't shake it off so I opened a new document and started writing. It ended up being longer than any chapter of _Fatum_ I've ever written, which was surprising. Anyways, I'm still very dedicated to _Fatum_ but due to current... er, 'interest' differences, I've gotten stuck. I just wanted to see if this fic would spur any interests, and if anyone would even want me to continue it. I've got the general plotline in mind, but if no one's going to read it, why continue, right?   
  
Anyways, the story starts off 11 years after Harry defeated Voldemort. He, Hermione, and Ron left to get away from the horrible memories but never returned. Draco Malfoy left as well, only after murdering the current Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. After years of disappearance, they were presumed dead. The new Minister of Magic (who is yet to be named) took reign and ran the wizard world into the ground. A new wave of criminal activity followed suit. The corruption of both did nothing but damage to the world. Ginny is 27 and Draco is 28. Their pasts will be explained as the story progresses.   
  
  
  
**Chapter One: Back From The Dead**   
  
  
_How can you see into my eyes,  
Like open doors?  
Leading you down into my core,  
Where I've become so numb.  
Without a soul,  
My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold,  
Until you find it there,  
and lead it back home._  
– Evanescence, "Bring Me To Life"   
  
  
The village of Shadily had never been so tranquil. The only sound heard was the soft rustle of leaves in the trees as the strong, autumn wind blew through them. Normally, on night such as this, Ginny Weasley would be found curled up in her couch by the fire, a lengthy novel in one hand, and a hot cup of cocoa in the other. But something about this night lured Ginny out into the streets. She sat on the steps of the Redemption Inn, waiting. But for what, she did not know. Something in her gut told her that change was coming — good change. And the weather only added to her anxiousness. It was the calm before the storm.   
  
  
She swung her legs back and forth like a child, uncharacteristic to a normal 27 year old. Though it was not like she could help it. The way the wind was blow about her hair made her feel like she was years younger. If she had any less self-control, she'd already be running through the forest barefoot. Her eyes darted from either side of the street before her, half-expecting something huge to happen. If her brothers were here, they'd go on about her behavior. Mocking her for being so childish. They were no longer there, however, which mostly proved to be beneficial. Though Merlin knew she missed them. But they, like her, had moved on with their lives.   
  
  
She glanced over her shoulder, her lips parting into a smile at the Inn behind her. It was not much, but it made her happy. It was the least she could do to help the village. And Godric knew how much this village needed the help.   
  
  
Within no time, she had gone back to surveying the street in front of her. Her Inn was conveniently placed along the middle of the street, which street stretched out from her left to right, looking as if it'd never end. It was easy for her to oversee the goings-on of the little village. It had been nearly 20 minutes since she stepped out, and her patience was beginning to slip. The better part of her told her that it was a waste of time, believing your gut like that. The other, more stubborn part merely blew a raspberry. She glared at one end of the street, as if willing _something_ to happen, just so she wouldn't have to go home feeling so foolish.   
  
  
Absolutely nothing happened.   
  
  
Furious and exasperated, she stood up and started out into the street when she realized that it was just past 10. According to recent laws, she was not allowed out into the streets after 10. Cursing under her breath, she sat back down and haughtily folded her arms across her chest. Serves her right for trusting a feeling.   
  
  
She began to stare out at an end of the street, her head suddenly feeling very light and groggy. A dark figure began to ascend from the fog, and it took a while for Ginny to realize that she was not seeing things. The figure was getting closer and closer, though it was still too far for her to get a good look at it. From the way it walked, it had to be a man. She leaned forward against her steps' railings, reducing her eyes to slits as she tried to get a better look at the rebel stranger. If any Official knew he was walking in the streets at this time, he's find himself in a comfy little cell in Azkaban.   
  
  
She caught a glimpse of the man as he passed under a street lamp. He was a rather skinny man, and though not nearly as tall as her older brother Ron, was tall enough. He wore all black, which illuminated the paleness of his skin. But he was still too far for her to see his face. She watched him move down the street, his lengthy coat flowing behind him as he walked against the wind.   
  
  
Her stomach gave a curious kick, and she was suddenly given the impression that she knew this person. The man continued to walk, and it was not long before he was directly infront of her Inn. Ginny remained perfectly still, as her mind began to register the possibility that the man was an Official. Like the man, Officials wore long cloaks, usually of a naval blue. Though his man's clothing was black and looked almost... Muggle. But no matter, Ginny thought. Even if he was an Official, she could always use her 'just watching the stars' excuse. Officials, like they men they are, never really understood the connection of a woman and the stars. 99% of the time, they'd mumble incoherently and walk away. There was one Official, who seemed to have thought it was some sort of invitation and tried to hit on her. Ginny was lucky that the blow she made to his head shook his memory. She simply told him that he tripped and fell when he asked her what had happened.   
  
  
The man stopped walking, right when he was directly in front of her. Ginny lowered her head between her shoulders and watched him. His chin was tilted up, and his eyes were closed. The smallest of smiles were on his lips, which gave his face an almost calm look to it. Ginny began to think that the man was crazy. He was just standing in the middle of the street, looking as if he was enjoying the wind ruffling his hair. While Ginny admitted that it made him look rather alluring, no sane person would do such a thing. Especially not in Shadily.   
  
  
As if he knew he was being watched, the man's eyes fluttered open and he stared at Ginny. Her cheeks immediately flushed as she began to feel incredibly stupid for staring at him so much. The man, however, just gave her a curious smile. The feeling that she knew this man increased, and she began to look at him curiously. The look on his face suggested that he, too, was trying to figure out how he knew her.   
  
  
The silence between them began to unnerve Ginny, and she impulsively shivered. The man grinned at her and began to continue down the path. Without thinking, Ginny called to him.   
  
  
"Wait!" she shouted, eyes widening at her rash behavior.   
  
  
The man immediately stopped, though he did not move to face her.   
  
  
"Er," she began, not really knowing what she could possibly say. "You... shouldn't be on the streets at this time of night," she said finally.   
  
  
The man turned to her and smirked, making the familiarity feeling escalate. Now she was positive she knew this man! She focused her eyes on his face, mentally raking her brain in hopes of remembering. But it was in vain.   
  
  
"I think I can take care of myself," he told her. While his tone held no hint of offence, something about the man made her feel defensive.   
  
  
"I'm not saying you can't," she told him, bristly. "It's the law."   
  
  
A silvery brow quirked up, making Ginny's insides churn.   
  
  
"Law?" he repeated, baffled. "There's a law that says I can't be out at this time?"   
  
  
Ginny nodded, feeling triumphant.   
  
  
"It's past 10:00."   
  
  
The man pursed his lips tightly, as if he were trying very hard not to laugh.   
  
  
"There's a _curfew_ in Hogsmeade?"   
  
  
"Most probably," she said, "but this isn't Hogsmeade. This is Shadily."   
  
  
The man processed this information, absentmindedly biting his bottom lip. For some odd reason, this action was slightly arousing to Ginny.   
  
  
"Must've taken a wrong turn," the man said to himself, and sighed. "Do you happen to know the way to Hogsmeade?"   
  
  
Ginny nodded, chewing on her own lip. The man smirked in an amused way.   
  
  
"Care to show me?"   
  
  
At this, Ginny shook her head. "I can't."   
  
  
"You can't?" the man echoed, then said, in a slightly mocking tone, "Oh. Your 'law'."   
  
  
Ginny chose to ignore the contempt in his voice and nodded in reply.   
  
  
He sighed heavily and began to rub the back of his neck — an exasperated habit that looked extremely out of place in him. "Why don't you just draw a map or something, then?"   
  
  
Ginny regarded the man suspiciously. "What do you want in Hogsmeade?"   
  
  
"I doubt that's any of your business," answered the man.   
  
  
"Then I guess you'll have to get there on your own."   
  
  
The man looked slightly impressed. He then gave her a bored look and waved a pale hand in the foggy air.   
  
  
"Just visiting, alright?"   
  
  
Ginny snorted. "Why would anyone want to visit Hogsmeade?"   
  
  
The man's brow shot up again. "Why wouldn't they?"   
  
  
Ginny gave a derisive laugh, making the other man's brow shoot up.   
  
  
"That place is worst than this," she told him, a tinge of bitterness in her tone. "Everyone who could've left, did."   
  
  
The man began to bite his lip again, and Ginny quickly looked away.   
  
  
"What's happened?" he asked slowly, as if dreading the answer.   
  
  
"Government's run that place to the ground. It's horrible," she said solemnly. "Poverty everywhere. There's barely any money for the people, and no one's brave enough to stand up to the Ministry. Even magic's scarce. Schools are being shut down because of lack of funding. People are living on the streets and children are being left parentless. The Ministry's really corrupted that village. It was so beautiful too. Lousy Senators aren't doing anything but cowering. No one's standing up to these prats, and — "   
  
  
Ginny suddenly stopped, realizing that she was voicing out her opinions to a man she just met. She bit her lip and looked for a reaction from the man. His face looked grave, and when he spoke, it was in a low, and empty tone,   
  
  
"Since when did this happen?"   
  
  
Ginny thought about it. It was about a year after the defeat of Voldemort, when she was only in her sixth year at Hogwarts. Cornelius Fudge had been murdered by Death Eaters and the new Minister, a William Holty, was elected. It had all gone downhill from there.   
  
  
"About 11 years ago," she said.   
  
  
A flicker of emotion passed through the man's face, and for a brief moment, he looked almost guilty. The moment passed quickly, however, and the same blank look was back on his face.   
  
  
"I see," he said slowly. He seemed to be thinking hard on something, which felt like forever to Ginny, when he finally asked, "Do you happen to know what happened to Harry Potter?"   
  
  
The sound of Harry's name rung in Ginny's ears. She straightened her back, trying to look as if it didn't bother her, and simply said, "No."   
  
  
The man looked disappointed. He had gone back to thinking when the unmistakable sound of an approaching rainfall sounded in the streets. The downpour came in no time, and Ginny was quick to retreat into her porch. Though the man remained in the street, looking so deep into thought that Ginny wouldn't be surprised if he was completely oblivious to the rain.   
  
  
"It's raining, you know," she shouted, trying to make herself heard over the racket the rain was making against the paved road.   
  
  
"Huh?" said the man, and glanced up. "Oh," he said, though he didn't budge.   
  
  
Ginny frowned. This man was beginning to get on her nerves.   
  
  
"You'll catch a cold," she told him.   
  
  
"Uh huh," said the man numbly, his eyes looking distant.   
  
  
Ginny let out a low growl. Now he was definitely on her nerves.   
  
  
"You'll get pneumonia!"   
  
  
The man flicked his eyes towards her and sneered, once again giving Ginny that familiar feeling.   
  
  
"I didn't know you cared so much," he said to her tauntingly.   
  
  
"I don't!" she said, indignant. "I just... don't like it when people get sick."   
  
  
The man nodded, though the look he gave her made it obvious that he didn't believe her.   
  
  
"Just get out of the rain, okay?" she said irritably.   
  
  
The man's sneer grew. "No, I don't think I will."   
  
  
"You're just being stubborn!" she shouted, being reminded strongly of Ron.   
  
  
"No, I'm not," he said, straightening his back. "I like the rain."   
  
  
Suddenly, the streets were illuminated for a brief instant as a lightning bolt raced across the sky, the roar of thunder following quickly afterward.   
  
  
Ginny gave the man a smug look. "Suit yourself," she said, and walked back into her Inn. She shut the door behind her and walked into the living room to light a fire. The embers crackled as she moved the logs with the poker. She settled herself into the couch opposite the fireplace. She knew the man would eventually cave, and all she had to do was wait. Her waiting was apparently not going to be long, when she heard the reluctant knocking against her front door.   
  
  
She grinned to herself and opened the door. Her grin faded almost immediately as she was treated to her first real look at the stranger.   
  
  
He couldn't be more than a year older than her, though he towered over her by a good five inches. His pale complexion looked almost ghostly against the darkness of his clothes, and his fine, long hair was plastered against his head with rain. His clothes looked expensive, though they were shabby and hung loosely around him, looking as if he hadn't had a good meal for years. Stubble ran across his chin, and a long, barely visable scar traced the contours of the left side of his face, starting from his cheek to his chin. He stared at her with a grim look, making the grayness of his eyes intensify. Ginny was almost certain she'd never seen this man before. Yet, in the back of her head a tiny voice cried out how very familiar he looked. Who was this man? she wondered.   
  
  
She suddenly noticed that her mouth was open. She shut it quickly and tried to regain her composure.   
  
  
"Yes?" she asked sweetly, hoping her lack of grace had not been so obvious.   
  
  
The man glared at her, and answered, through gritted teeth,   
  
  
"It's raining."   
  
  
Ginny glanced behind his shoulder casually. "Why, so it is!" she gasped. She nearly laughed at the man's exasperated expression.   
  
  
"Well, can I come in?" he asked, looking very grumpy.   
  
  
"I don't know," she said, looking thoughtfuly. "I mean I barely know you."   
  
  
The man's left eye began to twitch. "This is an Inn, isn't it?" he asked irritably. "Everyone who stays here are strangers!"   
  
  
Ginny grinned. "Do you have money?"   
  
  
The man blinked, and for a moment he looked taken aback. He sniffed and brought down his shoulders in a dismal manner.   
  
  
"No."   
  
  
Ginny shrugged. "Then sorry."   
  
  
"I'll work for it," said the man.   
  
  
Ginny considered it. In truth, the tenants in her Inn stayed for free, but something about the man made her feel like she should be taking advantage of his vulnerability. Like he had done so to her a long time ago...   
  
  
"Okay," she said finally, grinning a devilish grin. "What's your name anyway?"   
  
  
The man's back, if possible, stiffened even more, and his expression grew grave.   
  
  
"Malfoy," he said simply.   
  
  
"Draco Malfoy."   
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
The fall of the Dark Lord was thought by many to be the end of the people's suffering. The famous boy wizard, Harry Potter, had finally put an end to his evil ways in a daring showdown. When he was just 17, he joined the wizarding world in a sigh of relief — the darkest days were over. He was offered the job of Minister of Magic, after Fudge's untimely death, though he politely declined. He, along with his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, took a long leave of absence to recover from the horrors they faced during their seventh year at Hogwarts.   
  
  
It had been 11 years since they left, and not one had come back. With their leave came a new wave of law officials and criminal activity — both corrupt in their own special way. The wizarding world was left to fend for themself.   
  
  
All fingers pointed to one, solitary person for all of this. That person single-handedly murdered the previous Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, thereby making way for the new era of tyranny and debauchery. Yet that person left as well. Retreated, some say, to escape the death sentence he was sure to receive. Most feared that he had gone off to do away with the trio, to finish the job that his master set out to do.   
  
  
That person was Draco Malfoy.   
  
  
For years, his arrest had been warranted. His head was worth more than that of Sirius Black, when he was allegedly guilty. Many wanted revenge. Others just wanted him dead.   
  
  
Ginny Weasley wanted both.   
  
  
  
It was like looking at a ghost. And for all Ginny knew, he was. His pale features seemed to become more visable with every passing moment, giving him a glowing effect against the darkness of the night sky behind him. Ginny couldn't believe it. He couldn't've been alive. He'd been missing for over 11 years! He was dead. He was dead, he was dead, he was dead.   
  
  
"You're dead," she said, loud enough to try and convince herself.   
  
  
The 'dead' Draco Malfoy gave her a tired look. "Yes, yes I am." Ginny gaped at him and he rolled his eyes.   
  
  
"What, have you lost it?" he said irritably. "Do I _look_ dead to you?"   
  
  
That was arguable. He was unusually thin, and lacked a serious amount of color in his flesh.   
  
  
"But — " began Ginny, when a thought exploded in her mind. The word didn't even have time to register in her head.   
  
  
"Murderer!" she shouted suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at him while cupping her mouth with the other.   
  
  
The look Draco gave her was noting short of amused. "And you are..?"   
  
  
Ginny goggled at the man. He's a Death Eater! He killed and tortured countless of innocents! He's wanted by 20 Ministries! And here he was, dripping from head to toe on her porch, looking like a lost and homeless puppy begging for table scraps. If she wasn't so shocked, she'd be laughing.   
  
  
"Wait a minute," Draco said suddenly, and looked at Ginny closely. "Red hair, freckles..." He clapped his hands together, looking victorious.   
  
  
"Marge Wilson!"   
  
  
Ginny gave him a dry, withering look, feeling oddly insulted that he didn't remember her. Granted, it had been 11 years. Still, Ginny thought. After countless jokes about her red hair and freckles, you'd think the prat would remember.   
  
  
"No?" he said, frowning. He began to stroke his stubby chin, looking thoughtful.   
  
  
"Now I _know_ you look familiar," he said, and began to utter names to himself.   
  
  
Ginny could only gape. She searched her mind for what to do next. She had been preparing for his meeting for years, yet she was so thrown aback that her brain lagged. She just couldn't believe it! Sure, she had been training for over seven years for her revenge, but she never actually thought he'd return. By the eighth year, she, like almost everyone else, figured he was dead.   
  
  
Finally, her brain triggered her response, just as Draco had finally figured it out.   
  
  
"Ginny Weasley!" he said, triumphant smile fading as Ginny flew towards him, knocking him down on the hard wooden boards of her porch.   
  
  
"What in the — ?!" she heard him shout, as his back made contact with the boards in a loud crunch. She obviously knocked the wind out of him as he lay gasping for breath, his hair now fully disheveled. She was feeling a bit out of breath herself, but she was able to look past that. She had successfully captured and trapped Draco Malfoy. She used her hands to pin his wrists down, and her knees kept his torso in place while her feet were wrapped around his knees. He couldn't even try to move.   
  
  
Not that he was, or anything.   
  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked her. She had expected him to be furious, murderous even. Instead he just looked annoyed, which, in turn, annoyed Ginny.   
  
  
"Don't even try to escape!" she told him, heart thumping and breathing hard from the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She couldn't believe what he had just done. Still, beneath the excitement hid a feeling of triumph and pride.   
  
  
Draco sneered. "I'm not going to escape," he assured her. "I quite like this position."   
  
  
Ginny scoffed. She wouldn't allow herself to be ruffled by Draco Malfoy. She merely glared at him and squeezed his wrists even harder. While she was sure it was causing him some sort of pain, he was only looking at her with a slightly amused and alluring look.   
  
  
"You're going to die for what you did," she snarled, hoping to break him.   
  
  
But he only smiled and said, "I hope so."   
  
  
Ginny stared at him. He looked sincere, almost wistful. Without thinking, she loosened her grip on him. He immediately took advantage of her state, and sat up quickly, only to pull the same move she did on him. He was now on top, successfully trapping her.   
  
  
Ginny stared at Draco with wide eyes. She began to utter various profanities when she realized how stupid she was for falling for such an old trick.   
  
  
Draco grinned. "You've got a mouth like your brother."   
  
  
"Fuck you," she growled.   
  
  
Draco's grin grew sly. "Do you really want to?"   
  
  
Ginny glared at him. That only made him smile more.   
  
  
"Don't worry," he told her, grazing his thumbs against her wrists. "I'm not here to do anything bad. I just need a place to stay until this rain sets in. Then I'm off to Hogsmeade. Tell you what, you let me stay here, and I'll let you turn me in."   
  
  
Ginny arched a brow. Was he serious?   
  
  
"You're actually going to turn yourself in?" she asked, skeptical.   
  
  
"Well — yes," he said. "But give me a room and a few meals, and you can have that glory all for yourself."   
  
  
Ginny regarded him skeptically. The offer was tempting but how can she just let a Death Eater stay in her Inn? What of her tenants' safety? What of her own safety? Still, seeing as she was now pinned by him, what else could she do?   
  
  
"I won't kill anyone," he said exasperatedly.   
  
  
Ginny snorted. "I'm supposed to trust you on that?"   
  
  
"I'm not harming _you_, am I?"   
  
  
Ginny looked up at him, eyes darting towards the position he was putting her in. He suddenly looked sheepish and loosened his grip on her.   
  
  
"Oh, come on," he said, exasperated. "Aren't women supposed to have some sort of sixth sense when it comes to hidden agendas? Use your intuition, dammit."   
  
  
Ginny was slightly taken aback by this. True that her gut hadn't failed her yet — something big did happen tonight, afterall — but was she really willing to take such a big risk? Reluctantly, she focused all of her women's intuition on Draco, willing her gut to give her some sort of clue as to what he's really up to.   
  
  
Then something happened that she never thought would. She'd been staring into his eyes, hoping to see through them when she found something she'd always thought was lacking in him — emotion. A slight flicker of emotion that only lasted for a few precious moments but it was enough. While her mind was brandishing red flags and blaring sirens, her gut knew better.   
  
  
He was actually sincere.   
  
  
Her mind was reeling. What could she do? If she refused, there's no telling what he would do to her. But accepting is just as crazy. She needed to think about this, long and hard. But every passing second of silence made Draco's eye twitching intensify, and she knew he would soon be yelling impatiently at her.   
  
  
With a heavy heart, she answered,   
  
  
"Fine."   
  
  
Draco looked satisfied and released her. He offered her a hand, but she chose to get up herself. He merely shrugged and entered the Inn with a bit of a bounce in his step. Ginny watched as he glanced around the Inn, waiting for his critical remarks. To her surprise, he turned around and smiled, looking content.   
  
  
"Feels like home already."   
  
  
Ginny only glared. "Don't think you're off the hook, yet. You're still going to work for your room and meals."   
  
  
Draco nodded grudgingly. "Yeah, yeah."   
  
  
"And _I_ and the owner of this Inn, therefore _you_ listen to _me_."   
  
  
Draco considered this. After a few moments, he shrugged and stuck his hand out.   
  
  
"Deal," he said, waiting for Ginny's hand.   
  
  
It never came.   
  
  
With a grin, Draco withdrew his hand and stuffed both into his pockets.   
  
  
"And if any of the tenants ask, you are _not_ Draco Malfoy."   
  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid," he said, and ignored Ginny's loud and accusing coughs. Regaining her composure, Ginny grinned — a cold and unmerciful grin that sent a chill down Draco's spine.   
  
  
"What?" he asked cautiously, wondering if he had something on his face.   
  
  
"Ironic that you choose to stay in _this_ Inn," she said, eyes glinting against the fire in the room.   
  
  
"Why's that?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer.   
  
  
"I just think the name fits perfectly," she said, and began up the stairway to show him his room. With a pinch of dread, Draco glanced at the front desk, eyes widening slightly at the wooden letters carved along its front.   
  
  
It read, "Redemption Inn".   
  
  
He couldn't help but smile darkly. Ironic indeed.   
  
  
  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________   
  
  
  
Well? To continue, or not to continue? 


End file.
